


A Shooting Stark

by ILikeTropes



Series: Twinkle, Twinkle little Stark [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Non-canon compliant timeline of events, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23732620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILikeTropes/pseuds/ILikeTropes
Summary: They did everything they could. But everything wasn’t enough.____Tony Stark has just received the best and the worst news of his life.
Relationships: Mary Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Twinkle, Twinkle little Stark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709410
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark truly needed better security. 

Or, at least, security guards that remembered to do their jobs, or at least took a minute to recognize whose name was on their paychecks, keeping them and their family off of the harsh streets of New York City. Security guards that weren’t just standing around for show, maybe relying too much on his innovative, AI internal security system. Security guards that really, really, REALLY wanted to keep their jobs. 

Because, in that purely hypothetical world where Tony wasn’t having to do every goddamn thing himself, perhaps he wouldn’t have looked up from the paperwork that Pepper had piled on his desk to find a woman who was _not_ his Pepper staring back at him. A woman who looks vaguely familiar, even though Tony can’t quite place her. 

“...Can I help you with something?” Tony asks, dropping the pen and sitting up straight with a thin, formal smile that CLEARLY says that he doesn’t want to be of any help to her, at all, and is in fact planning on hitting that nice, shiny red button under his desk if her next answer is anything short of asking him what his coffee order is. “You know, if you had to duck, dodge, and weave past security to get in here? This probably isn’t where you’re meant to be.” 

“Is that all the hello that I get, Tony?” 

First name basis? Spicy. Tony watches with equal parts annoyance and fascination as she shrugs out of her coat and scarf and drops them on the back of one of the chairs in front of his desk. And he opens his mouth, about to say something witty or snarky or BOTH about the coat rack that’s standing just three feet away from her, but the words die in his throat when his gaze lifts back up to her face and he has to do a double take. 

“...Mary?” He asks, disbelieving what he’s seeing standing right in front of him. Wondering if maybe someone spiked his latte this morning. 

“That’s a little better,” Mary murmurs, settling down into the seat that’s holding her coat and scarf, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Hello, Tony.”

Oh, shit. 

Tony’s memories of the ghosts of one-night stand’s past aren’t always very clear… actually, most of them aren’t even memories so much as impressions of time well spent with men and women whose names he did not get. But Mary Fitzpatrick? She hadn’t just been anyone -- she was a brilliant mind and a beautiful body. An ex-CIA agent, who’d left her position and fell into civilian life after her husband, Richard Parker, had been killed in a plane crash. Those details tended to stick with you, no matter how drunk he was when he’d propositioned her during that convention a month ago. She was allegedly a fan of science. He was making a celebrity appearance. 

Typical set-up. 

Girl meets boy. 

Boy hits on girl. 

Girl, who’s been grieving for a year following the death of her husband, decides that boy would make an impressive rebound. 

Boy and girl put all the birds and bees to shame in a hotel room. 

Girl leaves before boy wakes up. 

Which leads to only two inevitable conclusions. Girl is never heard from again (preferred conclusion) or girl comes back into his life with news. 

“...Oh, god. No.” Tony says, shaking his head.

Mary’s answer is a thin smile and a folder being slapped down onto his desk. Tony opens it with trembling hands and there it is. Right on top, with all the makings of being legit. Blood work, all signs pointing to pregnancy. 

Might as well be a warrant for his death. That’s how he’s feeling about it, in the moment. 

“We used a condom,” Tony says, immediately, feeling a little dizzy and a little betrayed by the makers of Trojan.

“They’re not a hundred percent effective. It says so right on the box,” Mary says, matter-of-factly, like she’s had this conversation before. She probably rehearsed it a few times before she came over, anticipating every one of his questions and rebuffs. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to say them. 

“How do you know it’s mine?” 

“I haven’t slept with anyone else.” 

“You expect me to take that at face value?” Tony asks, not caring if that makes him an asshole. It’s part of the Stark Heir training -- if you sleep around, you deny any kid that isn’t born after a wedding. 

“No. But it’s true and I’m willing to agree to allow for a paternity test once I’m at seven weeks. Which should be enough time for you to wrap your head around the fact that it’s yours and it can only be yours. Save yourself the horror when the test comes back.” 

Tony’s afraid. 

Tony can’t remember the last time he was scared like this. It’s been a while since anything but apathy has rocked through him. But this? This is truly terrifying in a way that nothing else has ever been. Pregnant? A child? Father? Him? 

The file slips between his numb fingers, “Are you going to - ?” 

“Keep it?” Mary asks, her voice wavering for the first time. “Yes. I thought about this before I decided to come here. I know what your PR people are going to tell me to do. I know what kind of money that they’re going to offer me in exchange for the termination of my pregnancy. I know what you might offer me for that. But I won’t. I can’t. I don’t want to.” 

“...I’m not asking you to,” Tony says, quietly, in spite of whatever she might be thinking of him. 

She’s not wrong about his PR people. It’ll be the first thing that Pepper asks about. The first thing that Obadiah demands as being what’s good for the company. But looking at her, seeing the tremble in her hands and the fire in her eyes… he can’t bring himself to ask. He just can’t. 

“So, what do you need from me?” He continues, before she can look too relieved. Not demanding an abortion isn’t the same thing as being sure that he wants her to need /anything/ from him. The kid… how can the kid be his? He knows they had sex, he has fond memories of it. But how can he… possibly be a father? “Money? These situations usually call for child support, and I’m willing to help you afford whatever medical care you’ll need for this, but it’ll have to wait until I have a paternity test in -” 

“I don’t need your money,” Mary says, sharply, interrupting him. “Not for the baby. Not for medical bills. There are some benefits to being a widowed ex-CIA agent. I came here because it’s your baby and you have the right to know that they exist.” 

Does he, though? 

Does he WANT to know? 

If someone handed him some kind of remote to move time backwards and forget ever learning about this, he’s not sure that he wouldn’t press that button with all his might because, right now, his head is SPINNING with the implications. A father. Him, a father? It doesn’t make sense. There’s no just universe where he ever has a kid because, fuck, what kind of father could he be? With no one but Howard as an example of how to act? He’d fuck this kid up before it even came out of the womb, somehow, that’d be just his luck. 

“...You don’t have to be in our child’s life,” Mary continues, sounding a little strained as she said it, like she’s already anticipating thinking much, much less of him for the decision that he hasn’t even made yet. “I know you’re in a difficult position here. And, like I said, I don’t need your money. I just wanted you to have the chance to be in the baby’s life, if you wanted it. But, if you don’t…” 

She leans forward and picks the blood work up, showing another form beneath it. A blank one. Termination of parental rights. 

“...I’ll understand if you don’t think you want or can be in their life. But I can’t put our baby through the chance that you’ll decide to pick them up later and then set them back down when you get tired of them. This is what I’m asking for from you, Tony. All or nothing.” 

“...I don’t suppose there are marriage registration papers under these?” Tony asks, bitterly. “If that’s the kind of all you’re looking for -” 

“I had my husband,” Mary says, not unkindly. “I had my wedding. I had my marriage. He was it for me, I don’t want to do it again. You’re not pledging yourself to me. You are pledging yourself to this baby. No halfways. My child deserves better than that.” 

“Our child,” Tony says, automatically, feeling like a kid on a playground that’s being forced to share something that he’s not even sure that he wants to play with. 

And Mary’s eyebrows raise. “Is this your way of saying that you want to be a father?” 

Tony swallows. No, that’s not what he’s saying at all. But it’s not… not what he’s saying, either. Somehow he’s suspended in-between terror and maybe joy. 

“Do I have to tell you today?” Tony asks, closing the folder again. He can’t stomach looking at the blood work or the papers asking him to give up a kid he only just learned he might have. “Cause, fuck, this is a lot to take in.” 

“No,” Mary says, her voice softening a little. “I’m giving you until I deliver to make up your mind. But not a moment after that. And, I’m not telling you all this to be harsh. I’m telling you this because I know how men in your position operate and if I don’t lay down a clear foundation of what my expectations are, you or someone who works for you will find some way to twist things. And you don’t want to play those games with me. Because I’ll win. But I won’t want to.”

He wants to scoff at that, but he knows goddamn well that she’s not kidding. CIA agent… no game that his team could think of will even faze her. Not that he’s considering games, really. Just… black up plans. Contingencies. His mind is racing. 

“...What do you want from me in the meantime? Until…” 

He makes a vague gesture that means nothing, but Mary seems to divine what he’s thinking anyway. 

“Let’s see how you’re doing after the paternity test. We can’t do it until I am seven weeks along… and then, if you’re on board with the idea, we’ll play it by ear. If you’re not… well, then, sign the papers and I won’t want or need anything from you.” 

Tony can’t breathe. 

He needs to talk. To… to people. People like Pepper and Obadiah, who know how to fix things when he fucks them up. Or maybe he just needs a drink. A bottle of scotch to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth when he realizes that there’s going to be a kid walking around out there that is HIS kid. A kid who might know his father or, or might not if Tony realizes that he’s not cut out for this.

Which option is worse? 

Which is more terrifying? 

He doesn’t know. 

“...Leave your contact information with my receptionist. I’ll reach out to you with my personal email and we can schedule for the paternity test. Anything after that, though, I don’t -” 

He cuts himself off. It’s like the words hurt to say. A kid. A baby. His child is growing inside of someone and he doesn’t KNOW if he wants that to be so.

“...Do you need anything else?” Tony asks, desperately, hoping she’ll go so he can process all of this.

“No. I guess that’s it,” Mary says, rising from her chair. “I’ll leave my information with the receptionist. If I don’t hear back from you about the appointment, then I will send a follow up on the paperwork.” 

This is insane. 

She’s not asking for money. She’s not asking him to take credit for the kid. She’s giving him every opportunity to back out. Is this a really elaborate hoax? Or… or is this kid really his? Is this really happening? 

“Got it,” Tony says, weakly, feeling like he might throw up. 

Mary starts for the door and then pauses, looking back at him over her shoulder. “And, Tony? You should really do something about your security.” 

“...Yeah. Thanks.” 

Mary slips out and the door shuts quietly behind her while Tony reaches down under his desk, pulls his trashcan between his legs, and promptly throws up into it. 

He’s going to be a father. 

Son of a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! As promised, I have returned with another trope-tastic AU. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with this but now, I think it's going to be a series that tracks the life and times of Peter Stark as he grows up with Ironman as his father. I don't know how frequent updates will be, but I will do my best! If you're wondering about the timeline... me too, buddy, I have no idea. I'm kind of just ignoring linear time as much as I'm ignoring canon content with this one, so just accept it at face value and don't think about it too much. 
> 
> A few things unrelated things! 
> 
> A) I love, love, love, love all the comments that my field trip AU received!!! And I really want to respond to each and every one of you individually, but it's a little time consuming, so this is me saying that I read all of them and they each made my day a little brighter. Nothing has been as encouraging for my writing as the wonderful, kind things that you say. This isn't the only fandom I write fanfic in, but it has been by far the most kind, encouraging, and welcoming one that I've started out in. And each and every one of you plays a part in that.
> 
> B) I do have a Tumblr, if anyone is interested in keeping up with me someplace else! My username is TheMarkOfEyghon and I'm technically Buffy the Vampire Slayer centric, but I am slowly diversifying my fandom involvements, including Marvel, and I love, love, LOVE receiving prompts. So, if you want to chat or have something you want to see in writing, don't be afraid to reach out! And I'll try to keep people updated on when updates will happen, there.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Tony’s still trying to rinse his mouth clean of the taste of bile when he hears his office door open and close again, and the clicking of heels against expensive marble flooring alerts him that Pepper Potts has made her entrance. He spits his mouthful of water into the trashcan and looks up with red rimmed eyes and a grimace on his lips that was supposed to be a smile. A smile that she does not return.

“Hey, Pep.” He calls, hoarsely. 

“Tony,” Pepper says, in a tone implying that his answer to the question that she hasn’t asked yet is going to determine how long he lives or, perhaps, how long until she’ll be submitting her notice of resignation to him. “A woman just had me schedule an appointment for you to take a paternity test.” 

“Aren’t these updates usually through emails?” Tony asks, sitting up shakily and leaning back in his chair, trying to will his head to stop spinning. “Which I don’t read, so you burst in with information about my next appointment in the hour before I have to go. By my calculations, we are still seven weeks away from this conversation being necessary.” 

His voice is still as tremulous as his hands where they’re resting in his lap, rendering his usual easy-going teasing to being as thin and pathetic as he’s feeling in the moment. And maybe that, combined with the hell that he looks like, is what makes Pepper’s expression soften a little. 

But only a little. Like a knife being dulled instead of put back in the drawer. He’s not out of hot water yet.

“A paternity test, Tony.” Pepper repeats, walking closer to his desk. She presses her palms down flat against it and leans down so that they’re eye level with each other. “How long have you known this might be a possibility?” 

“Today’s Friday, right? So uh… let’s see… one, two, three… mercury's in retrograde, ah! It’s been about forty-five seconds.”

“Can you be serious for one minute?” 

“Historically? No.” 

His jokes are still flimsy, but they’re all he’s got. The second that he starts to seriously think about this, he’s going to throw up again. And his stomach is empty of everything except guilt and terror, so it won’t be a pleasant experience. 

Pepper’s eyes tighten with annoyance, but her tone is formal and matter-of-fact when she speaks again. “Alright. I can make an appointment with the head of PR to discuss how we’re going to get a handle on this. Whether that’s keeping it from the media or exposing it ourselves to paint you in a better light. We could have you actually take the paternity test if you’re sure that it’s not yours and dispel rumours before they even start…” 

Tony’s only half-listening as Pepper starts to run through the list of solutions and damage control. He’s aware of her lips moving and knows the sound of her voice… but he can’t make sense of anything she’s saying. It’s as if she’s speaking a language he’s never heard. His mind is too preoccupied by the thought of a child walking this earth with his DNA. 

A tiny stranger that might have his nose or chin with Mary’s eyes. Or maybe Mary’s nose and chin and Tony’s eyes. Some kid that might grow up to look just like him and there’s an unfilled form underneath his fists that could mean that Tony would never know a single fucking thing about them. He can’t decide if that’s more or less terrifying than the idea of one day holding this kid -- **his** kid?

“Tony,” Pepper waves her manicured hand in front of his face and he snaps back to attention, wondering if he looks as stricken as he feels. “I need you to focus. The fall-out from this could potentially be cataclysmic. If we don’t take every measure to be ahead of this thing before she goes to the press herself…” 

“She won’t do that,” Tony says, hoarsely. 

“Now isn’t the time for misplaced faith in people.” 

“She won’t,” He says again, more firmly. Trying to ignore the look that Pepper is giving him that’s equal parts pitying and accusing. He knows that he just made her life ten times harder and that’s nothing he’s saying is alleviating any of the new responsibility that she’s hoisting onto her already overloaded shoulders… but he doesn’t have it in him to explain Mary or who her husband was, or why he knows for a fact that it’d be too dangerous for her to broadcast the fact that she was having a child no matter who the father was. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.” 

“Maybe I do,” Pepper says, quietly. “But you know Obadiah won’t take you at your word on this.” 

Shit. 

That’d been a good few minutes living in a world where this catastrophe’s audience started and stopped with Pep. But she was never going to be the last living person to know that Tony had fucked up, even in his fondest daydreams. If she’s already scheduled it for him, that meant that Obie already knew and was likely on his way here to start raising hell about it since he was the only person in all of Stark Industries who stayed on his ass more than Pepper did. 

“...It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Tony decides, pushing back away from his desk “This is my kid and I’ll handle it however I want to handle it.” 

“And how are you going to be handling this?” 

He doesn’t have an answer to that, yet. What’s the right thing for him to do here? Wave away any legal rights to the kid, let them grow up without a father? Would Mary even tell the kid who their dad was? Tell them that it was Tony or lie and tell them stories about her late-husband instead? The child would probably never want for anything, but they’d miss their father. Wish that he was still around when Tony was right there. Living and breathing and maybe capable of loving…

But that’s only a maybe. The other side of that coin is the possibility that he’s just like Howard and will always put work over the kid. Neglect them, snap at them for every interruption. Make them feel smaller and smaller just for existing. And even if he wasn’t just like his father, maybe it was bad enough that he was just like himself. Coming into work hungover from the night before. When was the last time he left work and went right home? Just made himself dinner and went to bed without drinking? He can’t remember. It’s all a blur of parties, of drinks, of drugs and women…

He doesn’t know what it means to be a parent, but he’s pretty sure a lifestyle change is going to be involved. 

“What do you think I should do?” Tony asked, even though he knew that he had no right to put this on Pepper in addition to everything else. “Should I… She told me that I could opt out. Walk away. But that if I did, I’d have to sign away my legal rights. Agree to never see the kid. I think she meant that. She’d let me -- and she wouldn’t tell anyone that the kid was mine. She doesn’t need me or my money. Her coming here was just a courtesy. I could… just look away. Pretend it didn’t happen. Should I do that?” 

Tony’s too much of a coward to look Pepper in the eyes when he asks, but he can hear the rustling as fabric as she folds her arms against her chest and the soft sigh she exhales. “...Do you want to? Just walk away? Assuming that she’s telling the truth and she will not hold you under any obligation or try to use your name for her or the child’s success… if you really have that out, do you want to take it?” 

“I don’t know,” the words burn on the way out. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you ready for the alternative? Staying? Being a father?” 

“I don’t know,” Tony says again. “...I don’t think so.” 

He wishes that he could pick at that scab on his psyche, the one that Howard left on him. Wishes he could rip it off and let it bleed out and explain it all to Pepper. Tell her what a bastard that man was behind the stories that regaled him for his heroism and intelligence. If he could just spill his guts out then maybe she could help him. Tell him, for sure, if he should give it up or give it his all. She’d never lie to him to spare his feelings, not like other people did. That’s why he liked her so much. And if she said, “Tony, you can’t be a dad” then that would be that. 

But he can’t open himself up like that. Everything in him recoils from even just the wistful daydream. 

“Okay.” 

Pepper sighs again and Tony allows his eyes to find her face. She looks a little lost but even more determined. 

“You don’t have to decide what you want right now. Maybe you should take off for the rest of the day. Go home -- and I mean that, go home. No bars, no women. If you promise me that you will go right home... then I’ll tell Obadiah that you were sick. He’ll take over your workload for today.” 

It’s an offer that’s too good to refuse. There’s no way in hell he’d be able to focus on his work for the rest of the day. And that would mean that he could put off an uncomfortable conversation with Stane for at least a few hours. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Pep.” 

Tony looks at her, at the exhaustion he sees and wishes that he could do better for her. Maybe if he can start small and stop letting her down, then he has a chance at being something more than a disappointment for this kid too. 

“Don’t say that yet. You are on your own when it comes to talking to Mr. Stane about this. That’s one task I won’t pick up for you.” 

“...What if I offered you a really nice raise?" 

"No." 

"Better parking?"

"I have to get back to work." 

"My hand in marriage?" 

"Go home, Tony."

"What if it's a really, really great parking space?"


End file.
